Their blood was spilled in Soweto which is the garden that I walk, Their blood was water to which the fruit called freedom was born

And still they watered the garden that I sleep in at night
Every morning I wake up in the middle of the garden
The garden known to many if not all
The birth place of many who resembled kings Lords Goddesses
Who were they and what were they
And still they watered the garden that I sleep in at night

And still they watered the garden that I sleep in at night
They are not much to the memory of man as like the great Genghis Khan
Where are our crafters to craft their names on stones
How do we remember them like the great King Khufu
For they made sure they watered the garden

And still they watered the garden that I sleep in at night
They watered the garden through their blood
Blood that was spilled by savage daggers that had no remorse
They blood was spilled in Soweto which is the garden that I walk
Their blood was water to which the fruit called freedom was born

Soweto my garden that I walk, Soweto the garden of freedom
And still they watered the garden that I sleep in at night

By Thembani Chauke for YouthTube: By the Youth, for the Youth

"Addressed to all Sowetans, let us be proud of our being." - Thembani Chauke

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